Mouser
by Penpal678910
Summary: Mouser is a girl all alone in NYC and that's just how she likes it. But when she becomes a newsie to make a little extra money she meets the Manhattan newsies and their leader Jack, and the two clash. No cussing or anything bad. Rating for violence. If it's Newsies it has to have a fist fight.:)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! so this is my first story on ****fanfiction.**

**I re-did this first chapter ****because I kind of rushed in posting. I hope you like it!  
**

**disclamer: I don't own Newsies, only the stuff you don't recognize.**

**On with the story!**

**Chapter 1**

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_Who am I? I am nobody. Who are you, are you nobody too?_

Well my name is Mouser, or at least it is now. Don't ask what my real name is, I may get to that or I may not. You'll just have to be patient. I suppose you're wondering who I am, what a girl's doing with the Manhattan Newsies, when I'm gonna stop asking questions and start answering them, what the heck are all these questions for, and why I'm so secretive. All in due time I assure you.

Now before our story really begins there are a few things that you need to know about me.

One, is that I'm a girl. Two, I HATE bullies. Three, I have quite a temper and a smart mouth, to put it nicely, and four, I have a natural curiosity. And I love riddles because they force you to find simple answers to complex questions. That might be a fifth else you need to know about me you'll find out very soon.

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Mouser woke up, rubbed her eyes and stretched, _my house_ _is starting to get cold, _she thought. Well really it was not exactly a _house_, more like a drafty boxcar that was slowly getting colder by the week. _I need to find a more permanent house before winter gets here._

She groaned and sat up thinking about her last 'more permanent house' an orphanage that she'd let find her last year before the worst of winter set in and she froze to death.

The key word in that sentence is let, as in she _allowed_ herself to be sent there. Those cops are too dumb to catch her when she's actually try'n to get away. You see Mouser knows this whole city like the back of her hand, or at least the more... um, risky parts of the city.

Anyway she's got escape roots all over. Nothing fancy or elaborate (but she could do something like that if she had the time and resources) just a fire escape, here an open window there or the occasional ally-way covered in boxes, stuff like 's also knowing which shops and businesses you can and can't duck into and walk out the back.

_Well might as well get up._ Mouser thought groaning and started on her morning was breakfast, stale bread that she'd saved from her meager dinner last night.

Then untying the single braid that came down to the middle of her back she carefully combed and re-braided the dark brown hair. Stepping in front of a shard of mirror that was found at a junkyard she studied herself.

Staring back were two lively pale green eyes. She glared a bit at her mouth, which has been the caused her trouble more times then she could count. More often then not Mouser has had to flee and use one of her escape routes because she just can't keep her mouth shut when it mattered the most.

The 'mirror' is kind of tiny so she could only see her face close up but if you go to the other side of the car and stand on a box or something you can see a miniature version of yourself. But Mouser knows that she's small and short and skinny so she doesn't bother.

After buttoning up the off-white long sleeve over her under shirt, tying her shoes, and grabbing the tattered coat she was ready. Boy's clothes are much easier to runaway in then a skirt and that came in handy too much.

A quick jump down from the 2-foot ledge, a shove to slide the heavy door closed. Then a walk through the railroad yard past all the other boxcars that kept her's hidden. She snuck through a hole in the fence and walked toward the city and her job.

She weaved her way in and out of the mass of people that crowded the streets, down to the depot office. Mouser's a delivery girl. It's not that bad of a job, I mean,the work is hard sometimes and the pay's lousy but at least there _is_ pay and a steady pay at that.

The only real problem is her boss Mr. Green. He's a tall thin man, with gray hair, pale skin and cold blue eyes. He thinks he's so high and mighty and he treats his employees like dirt. If you kicked him in the heart, you'd probably break a toe.

The only way she can stand to hold her tongue is that no one hardly ever has to be around him for more then five minutes at a time. That and without this job she'd probably starve to death, or at the very least get really, really hungry.

She signed in and went to Mr. Green, to see what had to be delivered where. Putting on a fake smile she approached his desk.

"Good morning Mr. Green, sir is there anything you need me to deliver this fine day?"

"Yes, passel numbers and addressees" he said shoving a piece of paper in her face without looking up from whatever he was doing. There was no explosion, so this was one of his better days. He's buried in work so he doesn't care about anyone else.

"Thank you sir, good day to you."

She turned and walked away quickly, "Street rat." she heard him mutter under his breath. _Street rat?_ Mouser thought angrily, it took every last ounce of self-control, which is not very much not to retort.

_Street rat! For your information street rats are boys, if anything I'm a street mouse! And if it would not get me fired this street_ mouse_ would tell you a thing or two! _She smiled at the thought of verbally given him what for and looked down at the paper.

There were seven things to deliver today. _Not bad_, then she looked at the addresses there was not two within a mile of each other. She groaned _this is going to be a long day._

* * *

Mouser was almost done with the last few deliveries, so she sat down on some steps to rest. She was still wondering what to do about winter. Never again will she _ever_ go back to  
an orphanage. And if she went to the refuge it might as well be jail, she'd never get out.

It was certainly a riddle and like all riddles her problem would have a simple answer, she just needed to think of one. Mouser looked up and across the street was a sign.

A literal sign, it hung on the side of an old building. The sign read _'_News-boys Lodging House'. She stared at it as an idea took shape in her mind. _Hmmm, I wonder. _ She jumped up to finish the delivers, all the while working out the bugs in her idea that was fast becoming a plain. _This could work. _She thought. _Yes!_

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**Well what did you think? If you liked it (or didn't) please review. **

**I am begging you!**

**And I'm not going to post the next chapter until I hear what you think. So...**

**You know what to do!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone!**

**So I still don't own Newsies. (If I did it would be a TV series.)**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2**

Mouser headed back to the depot. It was Saturday so that means payday. Nine cents a week, no more and sometimes less. I said the pay was lousy. And considering a penny is spent on food everyday there's not enough in her savings that consists of around 20 cents, to afford a descent shelter of any kind for a week.

She needed a place to stay for three_ months_ at least. after standing in line forever, she finely got paid. Carefully putting the coins into her pocket she walked out the door and down the street in search of Hooch.

Adam Hoochkey is one of her connections. If you need to know anything about anything, he's your man. The bell jingled telling Hooch she was here. Seeing Mouser wasn't in a rush, which meant nobody was chasing her he said,

"Good evening lass. What brings you here so late?" Hooch was an American; his parents emigrated here from their respected countries. His mother was from Ireland, and his father was German. That's the reason theirs a man with a German last name who has a slight Irish ascent.

"I'm on a quest for knowledge," she said grinning mysteriously.

Hooch raised his eyebrows a bit. He's not very tall, well he's taller then her but not that intimidating if you know what I mean. His black hair was graying a little and he always smells like paper and ink.

"Knowledge on what?" His dark brown intelligent eyes looked at Mouser from behind his glasses.

"The newsies. I want to know where they get their papers, and how much they make selling um." she said, matter-of-factly.

"Now why would you be whant'n to know that for?"

She chose her words carefully. Hooch is her friend but not even he knows where she really lives, or what her real name is.

"Just thought I could make some extra money."

That was the truth, she'd never lied to him, just had never told him the _whole_ truth.

"Mind if I check the files?" Mouser asked.

Hooch owns a bookstore and the walls look like they are made of books. This is one of her favorite places to be, everything she knows she's learned from here. "Books have knowledge, and knowledge is power," that's one of his favorite sayings.

In addition to all the information on the walls. Hooch is a collector of data. The 'files' are the bulk of his collection. Six giant filing cabinets stood ageist a wall chopping a good three feet out of a back room. Each one had three drawers and every drawer was filled to the brim with facts. Mostly newspapers, everything was organized by category then alphabetically.

"Go right ahead. But I know for a fact that there's only been one story written about the newies, when they were striking a few mouths back." He added, _"The_ _Sun_ did an article about it, but since there were no newies and I was to busy I couldn't get my hands on a copy." Disappointment was written all over Mouser's face because he said,

"Now lass, if you really be want' in ta know that bad, then you should have just asked me! The news boys buy their papers for six cents a ten at a distribution center, and they sell them for one penny apiece."

"Gee thanks Hooch! Do know if there is a rule about girls not being able to sell papers?"

He thought a moment "No, can't say there is. Now that I think about it their are no rules about who can and can't be a newsie."

Mouser said goodbye and promised to come back the day after tomorrow to help with a new shipment of books, but as it would get dark soon, had to go. She walked out the door as Hooch called after her, "Now be sure to get there real early, and good luck Mouser me girl!"

A turn and a quick wave and she was gone. _First things first, _she thought, _I need food for dinner and breakfast._ After that was thought and done she headed back to the train yard. By foot it was a 30-minute walk. But as the mouse scurries it only took about ten, thanks to her endless amount of short cuts. She ate some bread, saving some for breakfast tomorrow, and drank some water. Her plan was simple.

(1)Get up early and buy some papers. (2)Report to the deport, and get any thing needing to be delivered. (3)Sell newspapers along the way. Flawless. With the money she earned maybe, just maybe it would be enough for a shared bed this winter. If not a warm coat might be in order.

The worst is if she had to ask Hooch for a bed. But her pride might not let her, that's why she's living in a boxcar. Pride. That and the fact begging for a place to stay means admitting that she can't take care of herself. And that's not the case.

Absentmindedly her fingers grabbed the oval shaped locket that hung on a long chin around her neck; it's most likely not worth anything except sentimentally to her. A portrait of Mouser and her mother and father was inside. She rubbed the smooth silver colored metal, confidant that her plan would work.

_It's not like anyone can stop me from buying papers. Right?_

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**Oh i'm ****pretty sure someone will try and stop her, don't you think?**

**So as always feedback is appreciated.**

**See you next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, this is chapter three of my story and to be fair I didn't think I'd get this far. I would like to say hi to everyone who has read this story, and to the three people who reviewed. "Hi"**

**So I do not own newsies, just Mouser, enjoy!**

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**Chapter 3**

Mouser woke at sun-up, did her morning routine, and was out the door. She had no idea what time it was, but anyone could tell it was early. _Be sure to get there early._ Got it covered, the only problem was she did not know _how_ early.

The walk to the center took five minuets. _The World _distribution center was just around the corner. _Man you got' a love short cuts!_ She thought _I just hope I'm not _too_ early._ Her fears were realized when she turned the corner and saw the center, it looked deserted.

The gates were locked, and there wasn't a soul in sight. _Well this just grate. I can't really wait on the street. I need a way in._ She walked around the wood fence that was too high to jump. Strangely enough she'd never had to escape thro here.

Finely Mouser found what she was looking for, a rotten piece of fence. Ripping it off and crawling thro, she pushed some crates, that looked like they've been here forever, out of the way. _So that's why no one has replaced this part of the fence._

Now on the other side, she moved the crates so that unless you knew what you were look' in for you could not tell they'd been moved. Settling herself down in front of the window, she waited, for anything.

**Jack's POV**

"Come on Crutch, we're not even suppose to be there this early." I grumbled.

"What's the madder Jack?" Mush jumped in, before Cruchie could, "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"Nah, just the wrong side of the sun." Race butted in sleepily, "Remind me why we're here again?"

"We've never seen the center before it opens, I wanted to go, and you all wanted to come with me." Crutchie explained patiently, for like the fifth time since leaving the lodging house. Mush, Racetrack, Crutchie, and me were walking along the not so busy streets of Manhattan; the center was just around the corner.

"I didn't force you guys to come, you could have just-." He stopped suddenly as soon as we got close to the gates. "Look." We all looked. Sure enough a little dwarf of a kid was sitting under the window. "Who's that kid, and how'd he get inside?" Race asked. "Lets find out!" I said and started to climb the fence followed by Mush, and Racetrack. We approached carefully. "Well do we know him?" Crutch asked from the other side of the fence. "_Her,_ and no." Mush answered eyeing the dark brown braid. "I've never seen her before in my life." She could not be more then 14, dressed like a boy except for the braid

"What's your name girly?" I asked. "That's nun of your business." She snapped back, jumping up. _Hmmm, a little spitfire, _I thought, _this should be interesting. _"Fine then, how'd you get in here? Shorty." I took a step closer. Trying to intimidate her. It didn't work.

"Wouldn't you like to know? And I may be short, but your ugly and I still have time to grow!"

* * *

_Did I really just say that out loud?_ Mouser wondered. Well, judging by how the other two were laughing a few moments ago, and now they are looking at her like she'd just said, "Hands up or I'll shoot!" She must have.

_This is either going to end up good, or really, really bad. _

"Just so you know" the boy said, towering over her, "the front of the line is reserved for me_._"

Mouser folded her arms."Well that's to bad because I was here first!" _Stop talking! _

He gave her a shove that knocked her down, and took the place at the front of the line. She picked herself up and stood in front of him.

"I was here first," she said, with as much ice as she could. "Move."

He looked stunned for a minute, but then glared "No." he said, with almost as much ice.

_Just turn around and walk away, _her common sense yelled.

She summed him up; he was about a foot taller then her. Typical newsie except a cowboy hat instead of a newsboy hat. Brown hair and brown eyes.

Mouser stepped on the railing so she could look him in the eye. "Just who do you think you are!?" She yelled at him.

"Jack Kelly, leader of the Manhattan newsies. And who ever _you_ are, you have no right to buy papes with out asking my permission." Jack said.

"Well I could agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong. Why don't you get in line like a good little cowboy want to be?"

Jack Kelly, leader of the Manhattan newsies, lunged for her. _Maybe I went to far._

She wondered as she jumped off the rail backwards and landed neatly on the ground. Jack however was not as lucky; he landed face down with a thud. Slowly he sat up; the look on his face was priceless!

_Well I started digging my grave, might as well dig a little deeper, _She thought. _ That was strike one._

Now Mouser's motto is, if you have a big mouth you have to be abele to back it up, and since she doesn't have any bronze she just uses brains.

She ran fifteen feet and stood in front of a brick wall facing her unlucky opponent.

For someone to fall for this trick, they need to be blind drunk, blind angry, or just plain stupid. Jack's eyes narrowed and he charged. Mouser stood her ground and grinned. Waiting tell the last possible second, she sidestepped. Jack had no time to stop, _WHAM_, so he ran into the wall.

_Strike two. _ Wile Jack was standing their, she lost no time in ducking behind a wagon; now she was caught between it and a wall._ All part of the plain._ He was slowing down any one could tell. He walked over and stood in front of her.

The only thing between them was the wagon. On Jack's face was a triumphant smile; he thought she was trapped. _We'll see about that._ She moved to one side then the other while he followed her every move. Suddenly Jack tried to jump over the wagon, just what she'd been waiting for.

Mouser dove under the wagon to find his feet dangling in her face. She ran out and stopped a few yards away. Jack turned and tried to follow; but the fact she had tide his shoes laces together made it kind of hard.

_Strike three, your out!_ He sat up slowly with a dazed look on his face. He made no move to get up or fix his shoes, so Mouser took it as a sign that she'd won. Calmly she walked up to the other two. Standing in fount of them with an icy look on her face.

"I was here first." She said forcefully.

Both of them backed away like they'd seen a ghost. All at once, Mouser was painfully a where of the large group of teen-age boys filing in thro the now open gates. At nearly the same time the window opened and she was staring at a fat, mean looking man.

"All right cowboy what do you want." He growled.

"Twenty papers please." The girl replied hesitatingly.

"Your not Cowboy, beat it girlie."

_So much for politeness,_ she did NOT come all this way to be intimidated off by the likes of him.

"No, I'm giving you money for news papers," she explained coldly, "what difference is there?"

a face came suddenly from nowhere and two hands griped the bars. "Hey," he said, "he said get lost." He appeared so fast anyone else would have jumped, but she didn't even flinch. Mouser ignored the face and so did the man.

"The difference is girls can't be newsies."

"There's no rule about who can or can't be a newsie." she countered, "and that means you can't refuse me when I say; twenty papers _please_." The please was dripping with sarcasm.

Folding her arms, Mouser waited. _Your move, _she thought, _and you'd better make it soon._ She could feel everyone watching this little stand off. Mouser hated being the center of attention but she stood her ground and glared at him thro the bars.

After what seemed like forever, he finely gave in.

"Twenty papes." he called not taking his mean eyes from her.

Inside she sighed with relief, outside she tried not to show how uneasy she really was. Mouser gave him the coins and he gave her the papers.

"Now that was not so hard, now was it?" she smirked.

As calmly as possible, with papers in hand she walked toward the gates. Looking back at Jack, Mouser gave him one more glare for good messier then walked out of sight.

* * *

"Jack, who was that?" David was standing next to him with Les.

"Don't know." Jack answered shortly.

"Well who ever she is, she sure took Cowboy down a peg or two!" Mush blurted.

"Jack why'd you have to go starting fights with a little girl." Crutchie demanded.

"I'm not a morning person and she pushed me over the edge." He continued, "and besides she looked like she can take care of herself."

And that was the end of that, for now.

* * *

A very scared Mouser kept looking back over her shoulder expecting to see someone chasing her. Positive that was not the case after a while she ducked into an alleyway. Leaning ageist a wall and slowly sliding down waiting for her adrenalin to go down.

After a few deep breaths she looked at the headlines. _How is anyone supposed to sell these headlines?_ Mouser pounded_, I mean really 'mayor serves jerry duty'? Who cares?_ The now calm girl got up, might as well try it.

"Extra, extra mayor serves jerry duty." Just like she expected no one stopped, skimming the paper for something that people would find remotely interesting.

_Wow, and this can pass as a newspaper_. She tried again,

"hot off the presses, mayor serves time in court!"

That got attention; it sold five papers in three minutes. Grinning the whole walk toward the depot on the streets, with no short cuts so she could sell papers along the way.

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**So, what did you all think? Right now I am kinda BEGGING for more reviews. **

**See you next time;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next day Mouser left a little later for the center. She questioned if she should go back but she needed the money.

Taking a deep breath she walked thro the gates. Trying desperately not to draw to much attention to herself. The brown haired girl made it to the end of the line ignoring stares from boys who looked like they'd never seen a female before.

When it was her turn she kept her head down, ordered twenty papers and didn't get hassled. _So far so good,_ She thought, _Now if I can just make it to the gate I can-._

"Excuse me miss but I saw you drop this," a timid voice sounded.

Mouser turned around and there was a small boy about nine or ten looking up at her. In his hand was a hair tie. A quick look at the end of her braid confirmed the tie was hers.

"Uh yah thanks." She stammered.

"My names Les, what's yours?" Les asked. His hair was dark and his dark innocent eyes were looking up at her expectantly.

"Mouser," She answered slowly. He may be little but the others could jump her at any time. She'd better get gone.

"You're the one who socked cowboy yesterday!" He exclaimed "No ones ever done that. You know, David says fighting's not the way to solve problems-."

Despite her best efforts, Mouser found herself smiling a bit. _Boy can he sure run his mouth!_ She thought as Les rambled on about, the newsies and his brother, the Delaney's, and something about a mean old weasel.

She had a felling this was going to take awhile so she sat down; Les followed her lead started talking again. She listened and learned a lot.

"Where do you live Mouser?" The sudden question knocked her off guard for a minute

"Uh, why, New York City of course," She replied carefully, "listen Les it was real nice meeting to you but I got to go, I'll see you around?"

"Yah see ya, bye!" he was smiling ear to ear, and so was Mouser.

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**Short sweet fluff. Just a filler I know but it is ****important trust me.**

**One more thing, I'm not going to update until I get 5 reviews at least.**


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